


Sunday Glory

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis really likes Porthos, and he really likes Athos, so he doesn't mind at all when Porthos gets called into work during their Sunday-brunch. The orphanage is not <i>quite</i> what he expected. He should have expected the baby, though. He had gone in knowing there was a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all have good dental-care.

Porthos’ pancakes are to die for. Aramis is a bit suspicious about the ingredients he used, but Porthos keeps claiming the most important one to be LOVE, so Aramis has given up asking in an attempt to go easy on his blood pressure.

He’s just glad Athos is there to lend some sober stability to their ridiculousness – clad in yet another cardigan that’s far too big for him, his hair mussed, and expression somewhat amused. He was the one who opened the door when Aramis showed up five minutes late with fresh rolls from his favourite bakery. “Ah, thank God. He was beginning to worry you had changed your mind.”

“That’s a lie!” Porthos had growled from the kitchen area where he was busy building a tower of pancakes. “I was merely slightly concerned he maybe wouldn’t find his way back here all alone.”

Aramis had tripped over to him after inflicting another hug on Athos and received a very sweet kiss in thanks for the clearly redundant rolls.

So far, his Sunday has turned out rather glorious. He is full of good food and coffee, Porthos keeps bumping his knee into his under the table, and Athos doesn’t seem to be put out by Aramis showing up again so soon.

Only when the telephone starts ringing does Athos lose his good mood for a moment, groans and gets up like one suddenly suffering a weak hip. “Who dares –“ He picks up the phone from where it’s mounted to the wall, and answers it with a terse “Yes?”

He softens instantly. “Good morning, Captain. Do you need him?” There is a brief pause, and Athos smiles at whatever is said on the other end. “I see. He is somewhat busy right now, but I will tell him. He will call you should he find it impossible to visit, but I will most certainly be over in half an hour at the latest.”

He hangs up, and the way he is looking at Porthos could almost be called teasing. “There is a baby,” is all he says.

Next to Aramis, Porthos sits up ramrod straight. “No!”

“Yes,” Athos drawls, stretching the word as far as it goes. “The children are going bonkers.”

Aramis finds it difficult to hear Athos say the word ‘bonkers’ in his smooth, posh voice without reacting to it in some way. What he doesn’t find difficult at all is to relate to Porthos’ giddy happiness. “An unexpected addition to your nurselings?”

“Yeah,” Porthos says, radiating sunshine. “Would you mind steppin’ over to the orphanage for a spell? Strictly speakin’ I’m not supposed to come in today, but we haven’t had to take care of a baby in a while, and the kids are bound to get a bit excited.”

“Bonkers,” Athos says again, gently emphasizing the word, and Aramis reaches for his coffee cup in an attempt to hide his grin behind its rim.

Porthos brushes the milk foam out of his moustache once he puts it back down, and Aramis remembers that he still has to answer him. “I don’t mind at all – I’d love to see where you work!”

His reward is a warm smile full of dimples, and Aramis sighs in bliss and drains his coffee cup. “I’m ready.”

“Alright, let us just clear the table before running off,” Athos drawls, and Aramis dips his head and smiles towards his own chest.

“Ah, yes. Let’s do that.”

Porthos squeezes his knee beneath the table before he gets up and starts piling the dirty dishes. Aramis diligently follows his example. They clear the table within minutes, and only when they are out the door and walking down the pavement side by side towards the east, does Aramis realize that this is only his second day with Porthos and Athos, and that he maybe should not feel this intense sensation of belonging.

He does though, is the thing, and he has no idea how to make it stop.

 

The orphanage is a bulky old building, four storeys high, with a brightly painted façade and colourful decorations in all the windows. It looks well-maintained, seems to have received plenty of restoration over the years, and its huge front door is standing wide open, letting the May sun in.

In the entrance area they meet a young woman carrying a stack of laundry, and Aramis is instantly fascinated by the way her hair looks like an intricately woven haystack. She has a very appealing nose, too. Very dainty.

She stops when she spots them, looks from one to the other with a vague grin, and eventually turns her head, and speaks into the hallway leading deeper into the house. “Charon? Do you have a moment? Athos and Porthos have finally adopted a love-child, and he’s gorgeous!”

Aramis blushes furiously.

“I’m kinda busy!” comes the answer, closely followed by a young man with very good cheekbones. He grins when he lays eyes on Aramis, which only makes the blush worse, and exchanges a victorious elbow-bump with the woman. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You two are hilarious,” Porthos comments dryly. “Aramis – meet Flea and Charon. My foster siblings.”

“Oh, so this is Aramis!” Flea exclaims and moves towards Aramis, manages to reach her hand out to him without letting go of her laundry. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Aramis says feebly, taking her hand, and she narrows her eyes at him before turning her head towards Porthos.

“A shy one?”

“Very, so be nice,” Porthos says firmly.

Aramis blushes some more.

“I’m always nice,” she retorts, “you must confuse me with Athos.”

Athos clears his throat, and Charon gently bumps her out of the way so he can shake Aramis’ hand as well. “Porthos has talked about you a lot – I’m glad you finally set up that meeting.”

There’s a crash followed by protesting howls somewhere in the house, and Charon looks towards the ceiling. “Excuse me. Teddy has pushed over the castle again. I better go make sure the girls don’t kill him.”

With that he turns and walks back to where he came from, and Flea hoists her laundry higher up her chest. “I’m gonna go get rid of this, and come collect you from the Captain’s office in a minute.”

She hurries up the big staircase to their right, and is out of sight within seconds. Aramis feels a bit overwhelmed.

“You okay?” Porthos asks him carefully, and Athos even goes as far as to put a steadying hand on Aramis’ back. “They’re really nice once you get to know ‘em.”

“I like them already,” Aramis protests feebly, “I just didn’t know that –“

“He really told everyone,” Athos drawls. “Expect to be met with awareness of your existence from everyone he knows.”

Porthos ducks his head and lifts a hand to rake his fingers through his curls. “Yeah, well I –“

“Let us go to the Captain before the children find out you are here,” Athos urges quietly. “There is time for needless bashfulness later.”

The soothing hand on Aramis’ back turns into a gentle push, and they move deeper into the house, down the corridor and past a number of doors until they reach the last one on the right. Porthos treats it to a vigorous knock.

“Come in,” a male voice beckons them, and when Porthos opens the door, Aramis finds himself in an expansive office, all dark wood and plush worn carpets. The man behind the big desk has greying hair and his clothes look like they have seen better days, but his eyes are kind, and his shoulders very straight. “Ah, that was fast.”

He gets up and steps around the desk to envelop Athos in a hug. “You’ve made yourself scarce these last few months.”

“I was in Italy,” Athos says. “You know that.”

The man chuckles and turns around to grin up at Porthos. “I see you followed the siren’s call.” His gaze lands on Aramis. “And who is this?”

“I brought my friend Aramis along,” Porthos rumbles, sounding suspiciously nervous, “I hope you don’t mind.”

There’s a spark of amused understanding in the man’s eyes, and Aramis can only guess that he’s heard of him as well. “I don’t mind at all. Pleased to meet you, Aramis.” The handshake he offers is firm and warm, and Aramis relaxes in a way he hadn’t thought possible after meeting so many new people in such a short amount of time. “I am Armand Treville.”

“You better call him Captain, like the rest of us,” Porthos says, still in that nervous voice, and Treville’s mouth twists into a little grin.

“Yes, Aramis, you do that.”

Flea barges into the room entirely without ceremony before Aramis could bring himself to say anything in answer to that. “Alright. She’s just woken up, and the coast is clear, no rug rats on the floors where they shouldn’t be. It’s now or never boys.”

“You go up to the nursery then,” the Captain says with a warm smile. “I’ll see you all later, I guess.”

He moves back behind his desk, and Flea shepherds them out of the room and down the hallway like a well-meaning but very determined collie.

Aramis takes several peeks at Porthos’ face on the way up the stairs to find out where the sudden nervousness is coming from, and once they’ve passed the second floor, Porthos lets out a little sigh and grins in a startlingly shy manner. “He’s kinda like my Dad. So …”

Aramis takes his hand, just as much to steady himself as to steady Porthos. Flea, who walks in front of them and apparently has eyes on the back of her head, informs them that they are beyond adorable. “I wonder how Athos bears it.”

“Stoically,” is the dry reply.

For some strange reason, Aramis feels instantly lighter – even more so when Porthos chuckles delightedly. “They’ve hugged twice since yesterday, Flea.”

She whips her head around, and makes a dramatic grab for her chest. “No!”

“Yes!”

Athos sighs. “Will you stop talking about me as though I was untouchable.”

“You’re a grump is what you are,” Flea tells him mercilessly. “I’m just glad for Aramis that you didn’t hiss at him and pushed him right back out the door when Porthos showed up with him.”

“I was tempted,” Athos drawls, “but then I remembered my manners. You should try it sometimes.”

“I am delightful and you know it,” Flea counters with a grin and leaves the staircase to the second floor. “Is everyone ready then?”

Aramis is not sure. He can only hope so.


	2. Chapter 2

Turns out Aramis wasn’t even anywhere near ready.

The nursery Flea leads them to is brightly coloured, with rainbows on the walls and ceiling, and mobiles in the windows. It is a warm room, comfortable and friendly, and there’s a cradle standing beneath one of the windows – its occupant very much awake, gurgling and whimpering.

Porthos marches towards it like a man on a mission, and bends over the cradle, smiling and reaching out his hand to the baby. “Hey you.”

Aramis goes warm all over with the way Porthos’ voice has turned soft and tender, and he watches as one hypnotized as Porthos lifts the baby out of the cradle and rests her in the crook of his left arm.

A few wisps of black hair peek out of the blanket she’s wrapped in, and she seems to disappear against Porthos’ so much bigger frame. Aramis is captivated by the sight.

“She was left at the church’s baby hatch,” Flea explains in a quiet voice, “seems to be about two weeks old – very healthy.”

The baby is happily babbling up at Porthos, waving her arms at him, and he takes both her hands into his right, curls his fingers around hers and smiles. “She’s a pretty one.”

Aramis thinks he might have to sit down.

“What is her name?” Athos asks, none of the usual drawl in his voice, and Aramis turns his head to look at him.

Athos’ gaze is resting on Porthos and the baby, his otherwise so cool green eyes warm and peaceful. He doesn’t look at Flea when she answers him, but keeps his attention fixed where it is.

“Peter wants to call her Gwen – we are inclined to humour him.”

Athos smiles. “Is he still wearing that costume?”

“Exclusively,” she sighs. “I know you meant well, but he’s making a fuss every time that thing needs to be washed.”

“I will talk to him,” he promises solemnly, and she grins.

“You do that. You’re good with him.”

Porthos moves to put Gwen back into her cradle, and Flea raises an intervening hand. “Stop! Keep her. I promised the mob there would be an introduction as soon as she was awake – might as well leave it to you to bring her down.”

Porthos immediately cuddles Gwen back against his chest. “Alright.”

Flea grins and moves to stand next to Aramis, interlinks her arm with his, thus lending Aramis desperately needed support. “They haven’t seen Athos in weeks, and now there’s a baby, too. I hope we get out of this one with our eardrums intact.”

“I could hide myself and leave unobserved,” Athos suggests dryly.

“No, batman, you’re coming down with us,” Flea replies with a grin. “Get it over with in one go.”

So they leave the nursery and walk back down the stairs, Aramis at the front with Flea on his arm, preventing him from running away or maybe even fainting into an incoherent heap of helpless adoration.

Porthos all by himself is already marvellous enough, in Aramis’ opinion. It is definitely too soon for Aramis’ delicate constitution to see him with a baby.

It is too late though, the damage’s done, and Aramis can’t even find it in himself to get properly terrified when the voices of at least a dozen children reach his ears and get louder the closer they get to the southern part of the house.

Flea tells Athos and Porthos to wait outside the door and leads Aramis into one gigantic room full of toys and children, paying no heed at all to his whispered protests, but raising a commanding hand when the children turn as one to stare at them. The group seems to consist of all ages from four to twelve, and every single child seems to be blessed with laser beams instead of regular eyes.

Aramis stiffens, and Flea pats his hand in a very sisterly fashion before she raises her hand once more.

“Dearly beloved,” Flea addresses the children, her voice solemn, “this is Aramis. He is Porthos’ BOYFRIEND,” she pauses for effect, gets a few aaws and just as many eews, and clears her throat, “who is waiting outside the door.”

All eews are hurriedly transformed into aaws, and assurances that Aramis is indeed very handsome and looks like great boyfriend-material. Aramis can’t help himself, he has to grin, and completely forgets to inform Flea that he is in fact not Porthos’ boyfriend at all – at least not officially.

Flea pats his hand again.

“Now, I promised you that you would get to meet our new sister today –“ agitation spreads like wildfire between the children, and Flea makes a noise that reminds Aramis of an annoyed seal, “but only if you don’t freak her out by gobbling at her like a swarm of deranged turkeys.”

Aramis can only admire her choice of vocabulary.

The children hush immediately, some even going so far as to solemnly fold their hands behind their backs as Flea looks at each of them in turn. One of them, Aramis notices belatedly, is wearing a Spiderman costume.

“Alright, Porthos, you can come in now,” Flea says, lets go of Aramis’ elbow and plonks down onto the nearest chair. “Oh, and by the way, Athos is here as well – you can gobble at him as much as you like.”

“Thank you so much,” Athos drawls at her as he walks into the room in Porthos’ wake.

The children remain quiet though, eyes fixed on Porthos and the baby. She is still babbling happily, entirely oblivious to the interest she’s exiting, and doesn’t complain when Porthos carries her into the middle of the room and sits down on a big floor cushion holding her safe against his chest.

“Alright,” he says, his voice still soft and gentle, “come have a look at her.”

The children flock to him, trying very hard to be quiet which doesn’t seem to come natural to all of them. Aramis watches their delighted little faces, melts a bit and then hastily finds a chair to sit down on before his knees give up on him because they have turned to candy floss.

Athos sits down next to him and allows Spiderman onto his lap after he’s had a look at Gwen. The child doesn’t say anything for a minute or two, and Athos gently clears his throat. “Peter?”

“Hm?”

“I have observed that you are, in fact, not fighting crime right now.”

“A true hero is always ready,” comes the muffled reply.

“True enough,” Athos admits. “But a true hero also allows his aunt to wash his uniform now and again.”

Peter squirms back and forth on Athos’ lap. “He does?”

“Absolutely,” Athos says smoothly. “He also puts his costume on only when danger is imminent and he needs to protect his loved ones.”

“Teddy kept pushing the castle over,” Peter explains seriously. “I had to stop him.”

“Yes, you did,” Athos agrees and hugs him to his chest. “Just let Flea wash your costume when she asks you, alright?”

“Alright,” Peter replies with a sigh, and hugs the arm thrown around his middle. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says; then he turns, and takes off his mask to stare at Aramis. “Are you really Porthos’ boyfriend?”

Aramis blinks at him, and Peter narrows a pair of big brown eyes. “You better be nice to him!”

“That’s the plan,” Aramis gets out, and Peter nods, deadly serious.

“Good.”

He scrambles off Athos’ lap to join the other kids on the floor around Porthos again, and Aramis relaxes a bit.

“He likes you,” Athos says quietly. “He does not take off his mask for many people.”

“I know another one just like that,” Flea comments from the sidelines and gets up with a groan. “Alright, I’m gonna go help Charon in the kitchen. Can you hold the fort for a minute?”

“Of course,” Athos replies, “I will call you back once the gobbling starts.”

“I won’t come,” she sings at him, and marches out the door.

It takes a while for the children to lose interest in their new sister, and once they do, they come running over to Athos and Aramis, welcoming the one back and informing the other that he better be nice to Porthos, or else.

Aramis is charmed, and by then relaxed enough to promise them his best behaviour towards Porthos – who appears to be listening and is grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Come on over here,” he asks Aramis, his dimples very appealing indeed, “I wanna share my cushion with you.”

Aramis promptly gets up, walks over to him, and sits down again – just to be used as a seat by a little girl who doesn’t seem to be tired of looking at her new sister yet.

“You smell nice,” she tells Aramis, “I like you.” She grabs the hem of Porthos’ t-shirt sleeve and pulls on it to get Porthos’ attention, “I like him!”

“I like him, too, Annie,” Porthos says with a smile that makes Aramis all fluttery, “I like him very much indeed.”


	3. Chapter 3

Children, in contrast to proper – judgemental – adults, do not make Aramis all that nervous. His eldest sister has supplied him with a sufficient number of nieces and nephews to feel at ease around kids, and he rather welcomes their blunt honesty. So he finds himself juror of a drawing competition within five minutes of having sat down on the floor next to Porthos, remaining Annie’s seat as she admires her new sister and serves as his co-juror when she finds the time.

Porthos is still holding an increasingly drowsy Gwen in his arms while deflecting startlingly invasive questions about his love life. That Teddy kid really has a very vivid imagination combined with a thirst for romance and … murder.

Apparently Aramis looks just like a serial killer ready to strike again. ESPECIALLY with Annie on his lap.

Aramis finds it really hard not to giggle while listening to Teddy and his theories. When Annie tells Teddy to his head that he’s just jealous because Porthos likes someone else more than him, and Teddy takes himself off with a flounce, Aramis finally gives in and allows his mirth to pour out over Porthos’ shoulder.

Porthos keeps still while Aramis twitches against him, but Aramis can feel him grinning down at him, and when he lifts his head, breathless and a bit weak from laughing, he does not resist when Porthos leans in for a kiss.

They are among children. They are safe.

That is of course the moment when a very adult throat is cleared right next to them. “Flea sent me with a bottle for Gwen.”

They part rather hastily, and Charon grins down at them, apparently very much at ease with what he came to witness, while Aramis is blushing so hard that it feels like he is boiling out of his skin.

“Eh, relax – the kids are used to seeing some kissing,” Charon tells him, his voice almost as soothing as Porthos’, “they didn’t even run for the squirt gun.”

“I have it,” Athos’ voice cuts in, “I was merely waiting for the right moment to use it.”

“Course you were,” Charon drawls at him, and hands the bottle to Porthos, “You got this?”

“Of course I do,” Porthos says, his voice drenched in warmth – and peeks at a still furiously blushing Aramis, “You wanna feed her?”

Aramis may be horrible on first dates, but he is really good with babies. That is a fact. They love him. ALL OF THEM.

Aramis feels that he needs some unconditional love right now.

“Yes,” he says, decisive and very nearly commanding, “give her to me.”

Porthos obeys, looking first bemused, then amused, and very carefully exchanges Gwen for Annie, who cuddles into him and tells him she likes the way he smells, too.

“I know, honey,” Porthos says softly, “you keep telling me.”

“Well, she’s right,” Aramis comments absent-mindedly while arranging Gwen in his arms, “you smell very nice.”

“Told you!” Annie exclaims triumphantly, and Aramis, realising what he’s just said, blushes some more. Porthos chuckles and leans into Aramis’ space to brush a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Annie leaves them at that point, as does Charon – Teddy has pushed over the castle AGAIN and is about to get slapped – and Aramis is starting to feel a little bit calmer.

That feeling only intensifies when Athos joins them on the floor, squirt gun safely in hand. “I am now up to date,” he informs them earnestly. “The children told me everything: I know all the gossip.”

Porthos grins at him, but his attention returns to Aramis almost immediately, Aramis can feel it. So far Gwen has raised no protest against her change of scenery. She blinks up at him, confused but trusting, and finally raises her hands in an attempt to grab his hair, smiling all over her little face.

Athos clears his throat, but does not say anything.

Aramis makes soothing noises at her and lowers his head so she can reach his hair – not yet coordinated enough to actually grab it, but trying to nevertheless.

“Oh dear,” Athos murmurs, and Aramis looks up at him, his hair hanging into his face and his brows raised in a silent question.

“Yeah,” Porthos agrees, “that kinda settles it, doesn’t it.”

“Yes, I think it does,” Athos confirms with a little smile that hits Aramis’ just as hard as Porthos’ affectionate tone of voice.

Aramis is no idiot, he has a rather solid idea what they are talking about, and his throat closes up on him for a moment. He has to swallow against the pressure blocking his windpipe and makes a hasty grab for the bottle of milk Porthos is still holding.

Gwen makes a little noise of delight when the bottle appears in front of her face, and opens her mouth, makes an enthusiastic grab for the hand holding it and manages to cling to Aramis’ fingers.

Aramis goes all soft and relaxed looking down at her, and he raises his head in confusion at the sound of a camera taking a picture.

“That’s one for the wallet, Porthos!” Flea exclaims in triumph, takes another picture of the three of them sitting together on the floor with Aramis in the middle, holding the baby and grinning like a fool.

She winks at him and vanishes back out the door, and Aramis hastily looks back down at Gwen, because the alternative would be to either look at Porthos or at Athos, and he doesn’t feel up to that at the moment.

He’s even less prepared for the sudden entry of the Captain into the room. “I see Aramis is making himself useful already,” he remarks, turns his head towards the southern corner of the room where the big paper-maché castle is once more about to be pushed over, and clears his throat. “Teddy.”

“Yes, Captain?” comes the respectful reply.

“What did I say to you about annoying the girls?”

“That there is strength in numbers and that I would be in trouble once they realize that,” Teddy reports dutifully. There’s a bout of silence. “I don’t get it, though.”

The Captain smiles at him. “You like your sisters, don’t you?”

“… Most of the time, yeah.”

“And you want them to like you back?”

“Duh.”

“Then be nice.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Treville nods and turns back towards Aramis who has listened to the exchange with an appreciative smile. “Are you boys staying for lunch?”

“I don’t know,” Athos drawls. “Is Flea cooking?”

“I heard that!” Flea informs him very loudly from somewhere, quite possibly the kitchen.

Athos’ face twitches, as though he is tempted to raise his voice and yell back at her that she certainly did NOT hear him disparage her cooking, and Aramis chuckles to himself – as does Porthos. “Yeah, we’d love to.”

“Very good,” the Captain says, “I want to get to know the addition to the family.”

Aramis’ ears go hot, just as Gwen spits out the bottle’s sucker, disgusted by the sudden lack of milk. She makes a tiny noise of complaint, very lady-like, but clearly disappointed in all of them, and the Captain smiles. “Madam is still hungry, it seems.”

Aramis looks up at him quite despite himself, and finds the Captain smiling, “You hold on to her, I get you another bottle.”

Aramis mutely hands the empty one up to him and watches him leave the room. Porthos heaves a little sigh next to him.

“Will you two relax,” Athos says very softly, “I fail to see where the problem is.”

Aramis opens his mouth to spell it out for him, and Athos puts his hand on Aramis’ shoulder. “If you dare question your likeability, I will whack you over the head.”

“Not in front of the children you won’t,” Porthos growls, “and most certainly not in front of me.”

“I will whack you, too,” Athos threatens, “don’t think I won’t. I can take you.”

Aramis laughs out loud at that, throws his head back and holds Gwen to his chest as it shakes through him. It takes him a moment to get the laughter under control, and when he does, Porthos is grinning at him, impossibly fond. “I really gotta call your Mom, Athos – she’ll never believe this.”

“Then why bother calling her,” Athos drawls, the smile audible in his voice, “better calm down your boyfriend.”

“I’m not –“ Aramis starts, and Porthos hushes him.

“Yes. Yes you are.” He bites his lip, suddenly nervous. “Unless you don’t wanna –“

“I want to,” Aramis says hastily, and speaks through his blush, “very much indeed.”

Athos rolls his eyes at them. “I’m glad you’re up to speed now.”

“Eh, you’re usually the one to tell me to keep my head and not rush into things,” Porthos pouts at him. “This is only our second date, after all.”

Aramis nods at Athos, silent but with a fair amount of emphasis. ONLY. THEIR. SECOND DATE.

“This isn’t a date,” Athos clarifies. “This is presenting your boyfriend to your family. You should have taken him to the park if you’d wanted this to be a date.”

“Can we go to the park after lunch?” Teddy yells from inside the caste that’s miraculously still standing upright. “I wanna play fetch!” He pokes his head out to turn huge blue eyes at them. “We can make it a date!”

Athos huffs out a little laugh, and Aramis blinks at him, captivated by the way it transforms his face. “I will take you, Teddy, I promise.”

Teddy declares Athos his favourite person in the whole wide world, and promptly stomps over to prove it with a hug.

“I’m working on my e-mo-tio-nal balance!” he explains, gently strangling Athos, who bears it stoically and hugs back.

“You are doing rather well I’d say.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“She’s pretty,” Teddy comments on Gwen who’s babbling up at Aramis to get his attention and another bottle of milk. Then he dashes off again and hugs one of his unsuspecting sisters – far gentler than he was with Athos.

Aramis clears his throat. “He hasn’t been here long, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Porthos agrees softly. “Do you wanna go to the park with him later?”

“I’d love to”, Aramis says, and smiles at him, “I need to get to know the family after all.”

The Captain chooses this moment to step back into the room, throws a quick look towards the castle and sighs in relief when he finds it still standing. Teddy runs over to him to hug his legs. “Athos is going to the park with us after lunch.”

“A splendid idea,” Treville says with a patient smile. “I’m starting to feel a little cooped-up myself.”

“You are welcome to join us,” Athos says, “We are making it a family outing.”

“Are we?” the Captain replies, and steps closer to hand Aramis the bottle he brought with him. “And Porthos dares to leave his friend open to attack in such a manner?”

“I know,” Athos sighs. “I already told him how very brave he is.”

“You’re hilarious, both of you,” Porthos grunts at them. “I’d be grateful if you could stop makin’ fun of me and my boyfriend now.”

Aramis peeks up at the Captain to gauge his reaction, but all the man does is urge Aramis to feed his charge.

Apparently there really was no reason at all to be nervous.


End file.
